


Endurance

by Lightning_Strikes_Again



Category: Voltron: Lion Force (1984)
Genre: An angst that ends in hope, F/M, Family Drama/Angst, I still don't understand tags, Lotor and Allura genuinely really love each other here, Lotura - Freeform, Lotura Week 2020, Mentions of rape because no one believes that Allura would love Lotor willingly, No Character Death, Non-graphic depictions of difficult pregnancy / illness, but idk the whole story could be triggering to some
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22451878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightning_Strikes_Again/pseuds/Lightning_Strikes_Again
Summary: Crown Prince Lotor of the Drule Empire finds himself in a difficult dilemma, in which saving his family means sacrificing his freedom.Posted for Lotura Week 2020 Day 3 - Gypsophila: Enduring / Family
Relationships: Allura/Lotor (Voltron)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 45





	Endurance

Allura’s pale face twisted in pain as her knees buckled. Strong, lavender arms wrapped around her, gently breaking her fall.

“Do not give up now, my sweet,” pleaded the ex-Crown Prince Lotor of the Drule Empire. The shadows of their stolen Drule spaceship loomed over them against the light of the moon above. “We are almost there.” The man gently pulled the woman closer to him, lifting her up into his arms.

Allura tiredly leaned her head against the crook of his neck, her eyes tight with pain. “Are we?” she asked weakly. Her trembling hand came to rest upon her heavily pregnant belly. Her sweaty, matted gold locks fluttered against Lotor’s shoulder as he trudged forward.

Planet Earth was the tenth planet they had flown to in search of sanctuary from King Zarkon. But this was the first planet to which they had flown completely under the radar. No planet had wanted to risk housing the exiled prince and the wayward princess of Arus, who had gone rogue against the Galaxy Alliance. One planet, Pollux, had offered sanctuary to Allura alone, believing the rumors of her elopement with the exiled prince were false and that she had been forced. When she had requested the safe passage of Lotor as well, pleading for him as the father of her child, they immediately cut off communications and activated their defense systems to ward them away.

“W-where,” Allura whispered, tensing for a time in pain, then relaxing in further exhaustion, “are we?”

Lotor’s reptilian eyes were weary, his face haggard as he surveyed the empty Earth field. “I do not know—I could not activate navigation without giving away our position.” He tightened his hold upon her, leaning his head against hers, feeling her erratic heartbeat. Her water had broken on the ship, and her birthing pangs were increasing in frequency. She felt hot, as if riddled with fever.

Never in his existence had he ever felt so helpless. The strength of his heart failed at the way her small hand slipped from her aching belly, as if in defeat. He damned himself for loving her, and then he damned her for loving him in return.

In his arms, Allura dared to turn her head, her feverish eyes staring out at the vast, grassy fields before them. “Are th-there…no people?”

“None that I can see,” he murmured to her. With his sharp Drule vision, he could see for miles in the darkness. The Earth moonlight reflected unnaturally upon his yellow eyes, lighting them up in a way that marked him as decidedly inhuman, even from a vast distance. “But there is a building of some kind, near the field of grazing animals.” His steps grew more desperate. “I am taking you there, out of this cold at the least.”

Allura’s breath hitched in another sudden wave of pain, and she closed her feverish eyes, tears slipping down her face. “B-but…it’s so hot,” she complained.

Lotor’s hands twitched, tightening in fear upon her back and beneath her knees, twisting the harsh threads of her makeshift dress a sympathizer had offered weeks ago. Allura had been attempting to resew her old dress to fit her form with little luck—she was no seamstress. “It is cold, my love,” he murmured to her. But he could not hide the increasing anxiety in his voice. It deeply worried him that Allura could not feel the bite of the night wind.

Her fingers weakly dug into his worn shirt as she shakily inhaled. “The baby,” she whispered. “Something is wrong—”

He nuzzled his nose into her sweaty hair, fearful that she was dying as well. “I need you to stay calm, Allura.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she retorted weakly, a small fire rekindling in her briefly.

It made his lips twitch, but the sentiment soon faltered as he neared the barn within the field, feeling a deep sense of shame that he could offer her no better comfort than old, rickety walls and hay floors upon which to give birth to their child.

Even worse, his beautiful, spitfire princess was weak now. All their struggles of attempting to hide from a furious Zarkon and from the Galaxy Alliance had resulted in Allura wearing down to nothing despite the increasing swell of her belly. She desperately needed medical attention that they no longer had access to.

Lotor feared that she might yet die giving birth to his child, and that he would not be able to go on without her.

“We are almost there, my sweet,” he murmured to her. But this time, his voice broke hard. “Almost there.”

The wide, double doors to the barn were unlocked, and he unceremoniously kicked them open, which inspired the exhausted Allura to flinch in his arms. Some of the farm animals—a cow in its pen, a goat on the other side, and a barn cat—all startled awake as well. They bleated and stomped hooves, and the cat quickly scurried away into the darkness.

Lotor’s face twisted with shadows. “Shut up,” he snarled.

Allura’s weak fingers tightened in his shirt. “Don’t be rude to th-them,” she whispered. “ _We’re_ the intruders.”

His panicked eyes sought out the pile of hay in the middle of the barn, and he gently kneeled. “I would prefer a castle fit for a queen, but I will lay you down here, my love,” he murmured, leaning her back against the hay.

Allura winced again at the movement, her cracked lips pulling back in a tight hiss as another contraction surged through her. “Oh,” she cried. “Oh, it hurts, Lotor.” Tears burned her eyes. “It hurts.”

Her pain inspired a burning in his own eyes as he grabbed for her hand and squeezed. And then he pulled away, unlatching his cloak from his broad shoulders to place it over her.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her sweaty temple, and she closed her eyes, drawing strength from him.

For a time, neither said anything, the sound of the farm animals and the wind their only company. And then Lotor dared to murmur, “I see a water pump in the corner and some blankets. I will return shortly, my love. Will you be alright?”

Allura’s voice was small. “Yes,” she whispered.

The haggard ex-prince stood then, trekking for the pump, his mind racing. He had a decision to make. A barn was no place for a woman to give birth, much less Allura, who was already sick and weak. He could offer her no comforts beside himself, and he wondered if he would even be a comfort at all as her contractions increased.

He could not lose her. He absolutely could not.

His scarred, lavender hand reached for the bucket first, which was dirtied with mud and slop from a farmer feeding the animals.

He swallowed hard.

“Allura,” he called to her softly. “I forgot something, back on the ship. I must fetch it. It will take only a few moments.”

She tired turned her head to look at him, her feverish eyes dazed. “You are not l-leaving me, are you?” she whispered in fear. She weakly pulled out her hand to reach for him. “Please d-don’t. Please.”

Lotor’s face cracked in pain. He quickly moved to kneel beside her, grabbing her tiny hand and pressing a kiss against her palm. He nuzzled his cheek against her warm fingers. “No, Allura. I would never leave you. I love you.”

Her breath hitched in relief as she searched his eyes. “I love you too,” she whispered.

He held against her for a time before he forced himself away, her words strengthening his heart. “I will be right back.”

“Okay,” she said softly, trustful.

Lotor turned toward the open doors, his slit eyes narrowing hard in determination as he trekked back to the ship.

They had successfully landed beneath the radar of the planet’s defense systems, which meant they could not be shot out of the sky, at least. The humans, as Allura described them, seemed honorable in ways. Surely, they would not hurt a pregnant woman, now that they were on Earth soil and could see her in pain.

Surely, they would not.

His nimble fingers punched in the code to open the main hatch, and he walked into the spaceship.

He hesitated as he made his way to the cockpit, grabbing for their blankets and their last water jug. “I am sorry, my love,” he murmured. “I will have to break my promise to you.”

Lotor stared at the main controls, imagining Allura dying in that barn. And then he inhaled sharply, and he flipped the switch to turn on their ship’s main navigation, broadcasting a distress signal to the full of the Galaxy Garrison.

His eyes burned as he stared at the radar, noting the immediate response of Galaxy Garrison squadrons flying out to their location, with an estimated time of arrival in less than five minutes.

He steeled his heart and then turned away, leaving the ship and its logs open.

* * *

Soon, Lotor reappeared inside the barn, setting down the water jug and tightening his hands in the blankets. “I found them,” he called to her.

Allura weakly tried to sit up, and her pale face stretched with a genuine smile despite her fever and her pain. “Oh, good.” She winced, and then it quickly subsided. “Thank you. You are so thoughtful to me.”

His face twitched. “Am I? You would not be in this predicament without me.” He kneeled beside her, covering her in the blankets, unsure of how else to help. Then he turned and unscrewed the water jug cap, turning it over to pour some water for her.

He lifted the full cap to her, and she gladly accepted, shakily grabbing for it and raising it to her cracked lips. She drank greedily, water slipping down her chin. It seemed to give her a small boost of energy. She lowered the cap and eyed him hard. “Even,” she said breathlessly, “like this, I regret nothing.”

It made his lips pull up, but the humor did not reach his eyes. She caught his new anxiety and the way his jaw clenched and knew he was hiding something. She reached out to touch his face. “I will be f-fine,” she managed, a new wince catching her as she spoke.

His large hand raised up to clasp around her wrist.

“I love you,” he murmured passionately. “I would do anything for you. I want you to know this and to remember it.”

“Of course I know these things,” she whispered. Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you say it like that? Like you’re saying goodbye?”

He pressed his lips together tightly.

Her eyes widened, and her heart began to pound in terror. “Lotor? What did you do?”

“I activated our distress beacon,” he murmured to her. “The Galaxy Garrison will be here soon. They will take you in because you are now on this planet, and they cannot turn away a distress call.”

Allura began to tear up. “No,” she cried. “No, they will imprison you or worse—!”

“—you will be fine—"

Her breath hitched. “—I can’t do this without you. I c-can’t do this—”

“—Yes, you can, my sweet,” he murmured to her, pressing a slow kiss to her cheek. “Do this for me. For both of us.”

She was sobbing now.

“Allura,” he said, voice strained. “Allura, look at me. Listen to me.” He tilted up her chin and added, “To avoid imprisonment yourself, you will tell them I forced you—that I made you say all those things to the other planets—”

“—No,” she cried. “It’s not true. It’s _not true_. I am not going to betray you like—”

“—They will take you in as a refugee seeking asylum,” he cut in softly, stroking her chin. “You will get the care you need. A comfortable infirmary to give birth to our child. Do not worry about me.”

She grabbed onto his wrist with a strength that surprised even him. “No,” she cried, her feverish eyes lighting with a new reserve of fire. “They will hurt you, or—ship you back to your father in exchange for a treaty.” Her voice broke. “You can’t do this to me. You can’t. You can’t!”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “I am doing this for you, my sweet,” he whispered. “I was selfish to think I could have you and be free.”

The sound of harsh fighter jet engines echoed in the distance.

Allura’s breath hitched hard as she grabbed for him. “N-no. No. I love you. I can’t—” her voice broke. “ _Lotor_.”

He paused, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss upon her lips. Then he murmured against her mouth, “I love you, more than anything.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “And I need you to be safe. We can worry about…other things after you have given birth and are healed.”

“Lotor,” she cried to him, squeezing his hand hard back. Her fingers shook. “Please don’t—I don’t want to—I can do this without them. Your mother survived just fine giving birth. I can too.” Her tears slipped down her face in pure terror. “I c-can too.”

“I am not risking that,” he said firmly. He blinked several times, his voice breaking. “ _You are too precious to me_.”

And then the roar of the jets settled around the barn, the great engines rumbling the walls and the floor. Lotor suddenly pulled away from her, tossing aside his sword belt and his daggers in his sleeves. His reptilian eyes remained focused on the distant wall as he kneeled on the dirt, placing his hands behind his head, awaiting the rush of soldiers with weapons. He distinctly placed himself out of Allura’s range, in case they were trigger happy.

Allura screamed his name as squadrons of soldiers poured through the door, their blasters raised at Lotor.

* * *

The next several hours were a wild blur of separation, flights, and being loaded and unloaded by military personnel. Every jostling movement pained Allura, and her tongue remained frozen with Lotor’s name upon it, her vision watery as the soldiers of Galaxy Garrison firmly pushed her onto a gurney and strapped her down.

Time slipped away—walls of spaceships became the walls of a hospital—

There was a maddening thunder of her heartbeat in the midst of increasing birthing pangs, the calls of doctors, being stuck with an IV and prodded as she cried for Lotor and for herself. She was so inconsolable from by Lotor’s decision to betray them to Galaxy Garrison, the doctors feared she was delirious and added a mild sedative to her IV bag, which contained a broad-spectrum antibiotic.

Nearly 30 hours later, one Princess Allura of Arus found herself staring blankly out at the infirmary walls, her body still weak and sweaty from childbirth. She had no more knowledge of Lotor’s whereabouts than she did the moment the Garrison had separated them. But she knew he had to at least be alive, providing he hadn’t tried to overpower his assailants.

“Your father lives,” she breathed shakily, looking down at her arms with watery eyes. “I feel that he does.”

She distantly stroked the soft head of the baby she cradled. Beneath a thin blanket, the baby suckled from her breast, yellow sclerae wide in innocence as it stared up at her.

A boy.

She and Lotor had a little baby boy.

And she was supposed to be crying in happiness, and he was supposed to shed tears and kiss the top of the baby’s head and then kiss her as well. And she was supposed to not be partially handcuffed to a birthing bed in an Earth hospital—

\--But here they were.

Allura swallowed back great emotion as her handcuff jingled, the long chain twisting with her as she stroked her baby’s soft, white hair. The child looked so terribly much like his father that it hurt, its skin the flushed purple of the Drule, its pupils slit. She blinked away tears, suddenly looking up and inhaling.

Her eyes were clear of fever. She knew why Lotor had given them up. But she could not ignore the wild imaginings she had of somehow giving birth in a barn, stealing what resources they could, and running away. Just running away forever, to the farthest reaches of the universe, where no one could ever find them again—

Her breath caught oddly, and she winced as her baby’s mouth suckled a bit too strongly, carrying with it the powerful force of the Drules as well and the gummy hints of fangs. She gently tried to readjust on the bed, attempting to find comfort for herself and her child. Her handcuffed jingled again.

As she did so, a knock came at the door. “Princess,” came a strong, military voice.

Allura’s watery eyes widened. It was a guard on the other side of the door. She held her baby closer to her for a moment, in fear that this would be it—that they would take the baby from her even after she had pleaded to keep it. She did not know what anyone else would do with the bastard child of the most hated prince in the galaxy.

She knew the doctors initially thought she was hysterical over her own pregnancy and supposed torment at the hands of Prince Lotor. They’d stared at her oddly, and then in pity, when she’d begged for them to not take it away. Perhaps one of them had finally convinced the guards that it was best to separate them.

Shakily and awkwardly, she tried to cover herself, her teary face flushing. “Please do not come in yet,” she called. Her voice was hoarse from crying. Realizing that if she tried to unlatch the baby from her, he would cry, she settled for more protectively covering his little body from human eyes with the blanket. “What, ah, what do you want?”

The voice sounded again. “You have a visitor.”

And then, a second voice sounded. “Princess?” A familiar, male voice. Concerned. Tight.

Allura’s heart stalled. “…Keith?”

There was a pause, and then the man on the other side of the door pleaded with the guards. “Please, I just want to talk with her. She’s not a criminal, you know. I don’t understand all the trouble that you’re all going through here. What’s the big idea here? You think she’s going to sprout an army or something?”

A small hope rose in her chest, that maybe she had not lost all of her allies or friends, even if the Garrison had forbidden Voltron to interact with her.

Eventually, she managed to say, “Please, let him in. I should like to see Keith. But I’m afraid I’m not very well fit for company.” She hesitantly raised the blanket higher around her shoulder as best she could, to hide her vulnerable body as her baby suckled away, its movements lessening as it drifted off into a sleep.

The door opened.

A handsome man in red and white flew in with a flurry of stress, his dark hair flickering about him. “Princess,” he cried softly, his eyes wide. He looked stressed and worried as he briefly looked her over, then searched her eyes.

She pressed her lips together, then managed an exhausted, teary smile. “Hi, Keith.”

The man looked down at her handcuff in horror. He paused, then looked back at the guard. “What is this?” His voice strangled, and he repeated again, “She’s not a criminal—she was Lotor’s prisoner. You can’t treat a new mother like this, and especially not Princess Allura.” He held out his hand and very pointedly demanded the key to her cuff.

One of the guards outside murmured darkly, “She’s a flight risk if nothing else. Unstable.”

Allura felt cold water storm through her. She held very still, her blue eyes narrowing in pain as she cradled her baby. They were right, of course. They knew the shift in her eyes.

Keith hesitated, then huffed before turning around. He looked greatly disturbed, even as he sat down beside her bed. “This isn’t right, princess. It just isn’t.” He gazed into her eyes. “Tell me they treated you alright here. Everything went okay? You feel okay?”

She blinked several times, fearful about what words to say. It struck her that perhaps this was all a game. Keith was playing the good cop in a much larger scheme for something. “I’m…sore,” she managed. She swallowed hard, thinking of the way the soldiers had swarmed Lotor, shoving him down with the barrel of their blasters. Her voice grew halted. “But, it is good to see a friendly face?”

He softened. “It’s good to see you too. Why, when we’d heard that you’d disappeared all those months ago—and then we found you—” he swallowed hard, unable to look at her pregnant belly or the obvious baby hidden in her arms—“ah, on the scanners on his ship, we knew something was really wrong.”

She imagined that she looked very rough in that moment. Keith had once expressed admiration for her beauty. She wondered what he thought of her then—sweaty and still swollen, a little sick-looking, her body carrying every sign that she’d been taken in the most intimate of ways by the infamous Crown Prince Lotor.

What Keith didn’t know was that she’d _liked_ it.

No matter how friendly Keith was to her, she imagined he would not take that fact very well.

She remained silent and looked down at the bundle of blankets, ensuring that they still hid the baby’s appearance from him.

Keith tried again. “We were so worried,” he said, voice strangling. “We thought he’d, uh—”

Allura’s eyes flickered back up to his, vulnerable. “—That he what, Keith?”

The man’s face flushed, and he looked away this time. “That he would hurt you.” There was a righteous pain in him them. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get to you when all of this started. I tried to tell the Garrison that there was no way you’d go with him willingly, no matter what you or him said over the communicators.” His dark eyes turned back to her. “I know you had to do certain things, just to stay alive with him after he kidnapped you.”

Her thin fingers tightened into the blankets. She began to fear that maybe Keith truly was the kind face they’d sent to try and convince her to give up her child. To possibly condemn Lotor to death as well for his alleged crimes against her.

Her automatic, knee-jerk reaction was to confess that Lotor hadn’t kidnapped her. He hadn’t forced her into his bed, like most thought he had. Only fear for the fate of her child stayed her tongue, for Lotor had told her that it was best to appear weak, and he was admittedly more of a strategist than she was.

But in her heart was a fiery well of indignance and frustration. Her eyes began to water. “I knew you were looking for me.”

Keith clasped his hands in his lap. “The doctors—they said you were in pretty bad shape when you came in. Fever and stuff. I tried to come earlier. I was really worried about you. We all were.” And in that moment, there was a broken line in him. He looked aged and tired.

His concern for her was genuine.

The princess’s eyes watered. “Oh, Keith. Truly, I am sorry that things happened as they did.”

“ _You’re_ sorry?” he repeated, voice breaking. “Princess, we were supposed to protect you. We were a team, and we failed you. Hard.” His eyes blinked several times. He waved his hands. “We could have—saved you from…this.”

There it was.

Allura bit her lip. There was the judgment—that she was a ruined princess now. Her lip began to quiver. “It wasn’t as bad as you—”

Keith cut in, voice hard in righteous pain. “—Don’t try to protect him. He forced you, because he’s a sick and twisted guy with a weird obsession.”

Her breath hitched. Tears began to slip down her face in shame. In truth, she had coveted the dreaded prince. It’d started as a surprise run-in during an average scouting mission to an uninhabited planet—and it grew into stolen moments, secret meetings, schemes to make their respective sides unsuspecting of their affair. It had escalated into Lotor making love to her against the planet’s pink grasses and flowers.

And everything flipped sideways when she’d one day realized she was pregnant.

With a very real love child.

Allura desired to defend Lotor’s honor to Keith. She wanted the whole universe to know the ways in which he had tried to care for her, had hunted for her, had beggared himself and denied his own crown simply to be with her.

She had committed treason to lay with the son of Zarkon, and he had committed treason against his own blood as well. They thought they had been careful, not to create life between them.

But now that they had…

She looked down at the bundle of blankets in her arms, feeling the baby fall to sleep, its little mouth still open against her. Her eyes bubbled with tears as a wave of protectiveness and love flew through her. “They won’t take my baby away from me,” she cried softly, “will they?”

Keith swallowed hard, looking down at the bundle with an unease. “I don’t think so. If you want it, I mean.”

The unease in him inspired Allura to not show him the baby, in fear that he would recoil at purple skin and yellow eyes. She blinked away tears, only for them to streak down her face. “I want to keep him, Keith. I don’t want anyone to take him away from me, please.”

The man gave her a hesitant, worried look. “Even if it’s his kid?”

“This child is an innocent soul,” she retorted, voice breaking. “Nothing is his fault.” Her fingers began to tremble. “And—and he is half-Arusian as well.”

Or more.

Lotor had Arusian blood in him too.

She added shakily, “This child is of my people. And he has the rights of one and is of royal Arusian blood, regardless of his father’s heritage.”

Keith gave her a sad look. He looked down, clearly upset. He bit his lip and said nothing for a time, then, “How can you love it?”

“How could I not?” she retorted in pain, her haggard face twisting up with tears. In that moment, she felt so entirely out of control of her life that the room was beginning to spin. “Keith, everything is so wrong, but…but…”

Somewhere inside her was the ache of an image.

An imaginary dream of her and Lotor on a far-distant planet, building a little home together. She would learn to hunt and he to sew, and they would carry their little one with them on pleasant walks through forests—having finally obtained an escape from the political insanity of their galaxy—

The princess began to silently cry as she held her sleeping child, looking worse for wear and beyond frazzled.

Keith stood up, raising his hands. “It’s going to be okay, princess,” he said to her, voice straining. “We’ll get justice for you. And—and I’ll find a way to call off these handcuffs and guards. You’re a princess and our friend, no matter what.”

The sincerity in his voice inspired Allura to look up at him, tears streaming down her face. “Do you mean that, Keith? No matter what?”

His dark brows furrowed. “Of course. Team Voltron sticks together. Through thick or thin.” He swallowed hard, saying hesitantly, “And if you want to keep this kid, then…we’ll help you with him, however we can.”

_With him._

Keith wasn’t calling the child an _it_ anymore.

A dart shot through her heart at that. It was a queasy disquiet, of knowing that she had abandoned Team Voltron first, in fear of how they would respond to her pregnancy with Crown Prince Lotor—their enemy. And what need did anyone have for a traitorous, pregnant princess? They could re-enlist the healed Sven, if nothing else, to take her place with piloting Blue Lion. And Coran—he knew Arus and its policies as well as her. The aristocracy was becoming outdated in the midst of a growing middle class.

Allura tried to shakily exhale. “Can you tell me where the others are?”

Keith gave her an apologetic look. “The guards are letting only one person visit at a time right now. But they’ll come to visit you when they can.”

The woman cradled her baby, leaning back against her pillows a bit heavier in emotional exhaustion. Her lips quivered. “And…Lotor? What has happened to him?”

Keith paused. His dark eyes narrowed in pain. “He’s in custody now, under maximum security here in the Garrison. But don’t you worry, princess.” His voice raised in passion. “Prince Lotor will _never_ touch you again.”

* * *

And on the far side of the Garrison campus, one fallen prince sat on the floor of his cell. His purple face bloomed with a bruise that streaked across his eye and down the bridge of his nose. The lines of his body were tense with pain. His white hair straggled down his cheek and bare shoulders in dirty clumps. They’d dragged him through mud at one point and torn his simple cloak. When he breathed in, there was a rasp from his lungs. It puffed into the muzzle tightened around his mouth.

But he kept breathing. He leaned his head back against the cold wall, closing his swollen eyes. The heavy chains across his wrists and ankles jingled as he limply stretched out his legs.

Allura and their child would live, he knew. She was strong, and human Earth medicine was formidable.

He knew he had made the right decision.

In his bound hand, he silently turned the key to his shackles. It was a gold key, dwarfed by his large palm, dimly glimmering in the dark light of the cell.

Lotor swallowed down a wave of emotion, his white brows knitting together. One of the soldiers who had accosted him had stuffed it into his pockets as they’d dragged him to his cell. It meant that he and Allura had allies—that someone knew the truth, even if there were appearances to keep up.

The key in his hand meant that he could potentially unlock himself and sneak out, but he had little idea as to Allura’s whereabouts or the extensive security detail around the prison.

It meant he would have to play the game for now.

To be the silent prisoner, watching and waiting.

And when the time was right, he would take his chance and run to Allura. He would see their child’s face. And they would sneak away in the dark of the night to another galaxy—another world. A world where he could kiss Allura freely, and build her and their child an empire with his bare hands. And they would rule in peace, even if it were only over that world’s plants and animals.

His eyes began to burn, and he opened them, bleary and exhausted.

He slipped the key back up his muddied sleeve, his chains jingling.

The empire would have to wait. For now.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Lotura week 2020! I've had this story on my computer for a long time, from back when I was really interested in DotU Lotura. I have just been afraid to publish it, I guess, because of nuanced content that doesn't really fit AO3 archive warnings well. (Like, this mentions rape, but it doesn't actually happen? So is it okay I've not used that archive warning but used an explanatory tag? I've been harassed for insensitive tagging in the past--so I AM trying. I've got anxiety over this, ngl.) 
> 
> I felt like this story at least fit the Lotura week prompt? And I've told myself I'm going to stop being scared to post stuff in the meantime. Please review and let me know what you think! :)


End file.
